Untamed and Unbroken Talma's Story
by f0reVer-bR0kEn
Summary: Takes place shortly after Eragon finds the egg in the Spine- Talma was an eighteen- year- old farmgirl living in the shadow of Du Welcenvarden, in a small village. What will happen when she is taken from her home and forced to work for Galbatorix?
1. Chapter 1 The Farm

Running. Just running. The feeling of running is easy to define. The sadness of running from everything you've ever known, leaving it all behind you like some forgotten doll. The anticipation of running someplace, hopefully better than the place you're running from. Then there's that overlying terror of pursuit, the fear of being caught because you're running. The pain of knowing your pursuer, the agony of it being your loved one.

This is what she thought as she ran, chest heaving, her bare callused feet making soft noises on the barren landscape. Yes, she was running. Running from her life, but the twist was she wasn't running alone. She shot a quick glance at her companion, and smiled. The smile melted as she heard the soft 'thwum thwum' of her pursuer's mount, and the scream it made matched her own as it blocked out the moon...

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><p>Before all ends, there is a beginning. This story is no exception. It all started in a small town nestled away in the shadows of Du Weldenvarden, on the banks of Isenstar Lake, Marna a few miles in the southeast, marking the mostly flat landscape with a large mound.<p>

This was where she lived, in the village of Ersha, where the food was limited to the small game hens and pheasants of the plains and the rare small doe of the forest. Her name is Talma, first- born and only child of her father Pica and her late mother Felicia. As such, she was treated as a son, a gift as well as a curse.

She knew how to fight, to hunt, to track, and to ride a horse. She was educated as well as any boy, and was pushed to become smarter, to think for herself. Granted, she worked harder on the farm, far harder than the other girls. Her hands were rough and calloused, her frame strong.

She brushed her dirty hands on her apron and wiped her brow before plowing again, her small feet digging into the soft soil she had turned. She inhaled the metallic smell, feeling the sun soak into her back through the thin cotton shirt, listening to the soft buzz of bees and chirp of birds faraway in the forest.

"Talma!" She heard a gruff voice call, and she smiled, turning her head and tucking some of her deep red-brown hair behind her ear.

"Yes, father?" She called, leaning against the plow. He walked out, his old age only noticeable in his grey-streaked hair. He stood tall and strong, looking as well as any young man in the village.

"Hitch Jonre to the cart." He grunted, and tossed her a skirt ad a money-pouch. "And put that over yer breeches." he added, heading inside. She chuckled, rolling her eyes. 'Old man means well... I think.' she thought, pulling the skirt on and tying the money pouch onto her belt.

She walked to the stables, leading a large dapple grey out. "Let's go Jonre." She murmured, stroking his long nose. She fitted him into the pulling gear, and hitched him to the open- backed cart before hauling herself into the driver's bench.

She shook the reins and clucked at the gelding, which obligingly moved to the front of the hut. "Father!" She called, moving aside when we drew near. He pulled himself up, taking the reins. "Talma. That money is yours. Enjoy the market." he grunted out, and she nodded. "Of course father." She said softly, and quietly waited to arrive.


	2. Chapter 2 The Market

**Chap 2**

She jumped down as he pulled the cart to a stop, and obediently waited for her father to exit the cart and hitch Jonre to the hitching-post. He turned to her and grunted, then headed into the marketplace. She sighed, and double-checked to make sure the small cloth bag was secured before she started walking the market, looking in every booth carefully.

She rarely earned money, and wasn't going to waste it on the first thing that caught her fancy. She stopped at the last booth of the market, and picked up a pair of jade combs, gently caressing the faces.

"Aye, thar be lovely in yuhr hair, missus." the shopkeeper said, his accent deep. She smiled, gently putting them down.

"How much?"

"Three gold pieces an' a silver, missus." He said softly, a gleam in his eyes. She pulled out her money pouch, counting five golds and three silver. She bit her bottom lip, deliberating.

"How about two golds and two silvers?" She murmured her head down. The shopkeeper thought carefully, humming a bit.

"Aye." He finally said, and she smiled, handing him the pieces. He bit down on the coins, and grunted his satisfaction, wrapping the combs in velvet and shoving them in a canvas bag.

" 'Ave a nice day." He murmured absent-mindedly, already pushing her out of his mind. She held her bag of combs, looking back through the market. Nothing interested her enough, so she walked back to the cart and waited for her father.

"Soldiers!" Rang out, followed by a loud cacophony of screams and falling stalls, and Talma panicked and ran back to the market.

"Father!" She called, searching frantically for him, cold sweat forming on her brow. A groan echoed in the air around her, and she turned to the source, a hand to her mouth. She saw her father amid the tattered scraps of a stall, a gash that ran his shoulder to his chest and bruises on his face. She ran to him, falling to her knees next to him, hands floating over his body helplessly.

"Father..." She choked out, tears forming in her eyes. He turned to face him, his eyes open slightly.

"T-Talma." He groaned, his rough, leathery hand going to hers.

"Talma... Be strong." He whispered, and groaned again, coughing violently. She put a hand under his head, pulling him so his head was on her lap. He looked up at her, and smiled, holding her hand tightly.

"Be... strong." He whispered, gasping in small breaths of air. He sucked in a last breath; the end gurgled, and sighed. She felt him go light in her lap; ad ran a hand through his hair, a sad, resigned look on her face. She held him closely, ignoring the swarming soldiers that formed a small ring around her.

"Found a good one, Capt'. She's purdy eno' t' work fer Galbatorix. Looks strong, too." A burly man said, his ultra- blue eyes watching her. She glared up hatefully at the assembled soldiers, her father's head cradled lovingly near her bosom.

"Monsters." She hissed before rubbing her cheek on her father's head, quiet tears streaming down her face. She heard a hard 'thud' as one of the men dismounted, walking over to her. She glared up at him as he drew hear, her cat-eyes sparking with hatred.

"Alright miss, time to go." He growled, roughly grabbing her bicep and hauling her to her feet, kicking her father's body away from her. She screamed in outrage, thrashing in his grasp.

"Let me go!" She cried, clawing at his hand. He slapped her hard, her head jerking violently, tears sailing off of her cheeks. She felt her knees give way, her hand going to her cheek, glaring at him. She stood slowly, and spat near his feet.

He hit her again, sending her head in the opposite direction. She stood again, a venomous glare directed at him. He stared steadily back, challenging her resolve. When she didn't flinch away, he threw his head back and barked out a laugh.

"The little witch has spirit." He said loudly, and turned back to her.

"Galbatorix will enjoy breaking it." He whispered harshly, a glint in his eye. Another soldier came fourth, leading Jonre by his reins.

" 'Ey! Capt'! Gots a hoss right 'ere." He called, and the man that was holding her smiled coldly.

"Put a saddle on it! The lady deserves a mount." He said sarcastically, picking her up and tossing her over Jonre's back. He laughed again, motioning to a boy.

"Boy! You're going to ride behind the girl. Make sure she's... Comfortable." He said slowly, turning back to her. He tied her ankles and wrists harshly, the coarse rope digging into her wrists. The boy hauled himself up behind her, taking the reins. She glared hatefully up at him before looking down again, rubbing her cheeks on her arms crossly, wiping the tears away.

"I'm sorry." She heard him mutter, and she looked back up at him. He looked forwards steadily, and she snorted and looked away, feeling Jonre start moving. She hung limply, resigned to her fate. She looked back on her village, hanging onto the sight of her ruined home until it disappeared from sight.


End file.
